


Broken

by mezlad



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan
Genre: Family, Grieving, Loneliness, Other, percy jackson - Freeform, post bloods of olypus, sally jackson - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-09
Updated: 2015-01-09
Packaged: 2018-03-06 18:46:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3144692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mezlad/pseuds/mezlad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I wrote percy jackson fanfiction because I have no shame.<br/>Oneshot, short, under the cut :)<br/>Percy reuintes with his mum.<br/>Here’s some snippets yo:<br/>It’s when he sees his Mum - that’s when he finally breaks.<br/>All he can think is that she looks so much older, that everything about her is so much more tired. She has deep lines where she never had lines before, her skin is pale, her cheeks sunken, her hair is dry and greying. She is not his mother but she is. She is a shell of who she was, and, he realises, so is he.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Broken

When he sees his Mum – that’s when he finally breaks.  
Because yeah, the ship was hard. He’d be sitting in the cabin and hear Leo bang in the engine and think it was something – anything – coming to get him. The rocking ship was Tartarus shifting. He’d walk everywhere twice as fast in case the floorboards were slowly digesting him. When he closed his eyes he could see himself controlling the poison, feel the power and the strength and the darkness of himself surging through his body.  
But when things got bad, well, he’d grip Annabeth’s hand, he’d clutch riptide, he’d go out and stare at the ocean. On the ship, well, there had been things to do, you know? There had been monsters to fight, a mission to finish, destinies to be fought for. So he could pretend, for a bit, that things were the same – that he was the same. He could pretend that the memories that haunted him were just nightmares, he could push things away, bury them deep under joking and laughs.  
But then, months later, he turns up on her doorstep, and knocks on the door.  
When she opens it, they just stare at each other for what can only be seconds, but what feels like minutes.  
All he can think is that she looks so much older, that everything about her is so much more tired. She has deep lines where she never had lines before, her skin is pale, her cheeks sunken, her hair is dry and greying.  
And then she starts choking his name – not just saying it, but choking it – and she grips him with her shaking arms and stares at him like he’s this strange thing she’s never laid eyes on before, like he’s her own nightmare, come back to haunt her –  
And that’s when it crashes down on him. That is when he breaks.  
Because he can see himself the way she sees him. He can see the bags under his eyes, see the gauntness of his cheekbones, see how his clothes do not fit over the boniness of his arms and hips. He can see the way his eyes fail to light up all the way now, see the way his smile never reaches far enough –  
Because here it was, in front of him, reflected back in the person he loved the most in the world.  
And…well, it takes that long for it to hit him, really, even if that sounds really dumb. It hits him hard and fast, like he had been sliced open.  
Because – because his Mum could always fix everything, you know? She fixed broken arms, scraped knees, twisted wrists. She dated awful men just to protect him, followed him into battles just to make sure he was okay – his Mum could do anything, she could fix anything –  
His Mother’s arms grip him around his shoulders and she pulls him into her, still choking his name. His arms wrap around her too, and he’s aware that he’s saying things – no, he’s sobbing them – and his head is in her chest again, like when he was a little boy, like when he used to fall and hurt himself and she would pick him up and tell him, ‘everything will be okay.’  
Percy holds his breath, waits –  
She doesn’t say anything.  
– because nothing was okay, was it? And really, nothing will ever be okay again, because he’s seen things, things he can’t unsee – he’s done things, things he can’t undo – and they’re there, they’re following him, all the time, where ever he goes –

Percy Jackson is broken.  
And not even his Mum can fix that


End file.
